Bovino Lambo sits on the bed, waiting. He'd followed Sawada Tsunayoshi long enough to make sure that he woke up without any trouble beyond the usual symptoms of Hyper Dying Will Flames, then he'd come back here. He slept through the night and waited. He ate breakfast and waited. He got a call from Reborn to call in sick at school and waited.

He was used to waiting now.

Before, with Massimo, there was always something to do, even if it was just talking or listening to music together. Even after Enrico and Frederico died, even at their funerals, there was never just this sensation that they were just waiting for something to happen.

Then Massimo was kidnapped, and it seemed like he did nothing but wait anymore. Wait for news of the search parties, wait for dental identification off all of the body guards, wait for the concussion to finally slowly heal, wait for a lead, a ransom note. Wait for next piece of his body to come in the mail.

He feels like that one book Uncle Romeo used to read to him when he was learning English. Waiting for a train to go, or a bus to come, or a plane to go, or the mail to come, or the rain to go, or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow, or the waiting around for a Yes or No, or waiting for hair to grow. He was just waiting.

Bovino knows that Massimo probably wouldn't have wanted him to wait. Een when they barely knew each other beyond the brief introduction of "Here, you two are the same age, play nice,", Massimo was always trying to make sure that he was alright. If this were the book - the one Romeo read, Massimo would be the one to tell him "NO! That's not for you.".

But Massimo's not right now, and sending a prayer up in the hope that god isn't too busy too pass it on doesn't cut it when Lambo needs a response, needs a sign, needs to know what he's supposed to do now.

He doesn't want to go back to the Bovino after they practically thrust him into Vongola's arms in exchange for the increased status and connections. Vongola doesn't really want him - without the mythical guardian connection to one of their precious heirs, he's just another outsider to the eyes of most. Like he told the latest heir - it's complicated.

They probably sent him off with Reborn in the hopes that he'd find something useful to do with himself. Maybe become a hitman or find a convenient suicide mission. (Or, the logical side of his mind whispers, they want to to bond with their next heir so they don't have to go to the effort of finding a new lightning guardian).

In the odd moment when he actually managed to fight through his haze now days, Lambo thought he'd throw himself at Cristiana's mercy. He knew he could handle her, but he didn't think he could handle someone trying to replace Massimo in every way, from taking his spot in the family to taking his guardians.

The phone rings, loud and sudden in the silence.

Lambo doesn't let it go beyond the first ring.

"Bovino speaking."

"Have you eaten lunch today?"

Lambo's eyes move listlessly to the clean breakfast dishes sitting in the rack. "No."

"Do you have the food required to make yourself a healthy lunch?"

"No."

"You need to take care of yourself. I'm not getting paid to babysit you. Get yourself a healthy lunch and get to the clearing." Click.

That. That is why Lambo actually stayed. Reborn doesn't care that Massimo died. Reborn doesn't care that Lambo hurts beyond the fact that it makes his own job harder. He isn't trying to avoid him or give him empty platitudes or telling him time will heal him. All Reborn does is give him his next task.

Lambo shifts to get off the bed, and he has to brace himself when black and white spots clods is eyes and his sense of balance swings wildly out of his control for a moment. He blinks the spots out of his eyes and waits for his balance to come back to him. The headache stays with him, and he glances guiltily at the cupboards. There isn't really anything healthy there, but Massimo would have told him to eat something, anything anyways.

He knows he should eat something. He just . . . doesn't.

Lambo shakes his head and grabs his keys and the bottle of Dying Will Pills from the ledge in the way out.

As he passes through the business center, he grabs a couple of steamed pork buns and a cup of cheap matcha green tea from a street vendor. He wolfs the first one down as he wanders through the businesses, and he's worked his way through half of the second bun by the time he's reached the forest. By the time he's reached the clearing that Reborn had designated as the training ground, he'd done with that second pork bun and drowning the last of his tea.

Neither Reborn nor Sawada are there, so Lambo settles himself on the ground in the shadow of the cliff. There are rocks poking uncomfortably into his back, and he shifts so that they're poking eve harder, most of them veering straight into the area of pain. He doesn't want to fall asleep here. He'd probably wake up, throwing up, on himself, because that was what happened last time he fell asleep in a forest.

Nightmares, you know? They're the worst. Especially when you're remembering that one time you betrayed the one person people had told you was literally more important than you in every way. So yeah, Lambo wasn't going to sleep. Forests held to many memories. He dutifully shifted to make the rocks at the back more uncomfortable every time his eyes wanted to stay shut, and ignored the bruises he could practically feel forming.

Maybe an hour or two after he'd arrived, voices begin to filter through the trees.

Lambo glances up from contemplating the line of ants that goes under his legs and watches as Reborn walks ahead of Sawada and two of his guardians.

". . . try this again."

"Are you extremely going to shoot him again?" the teen with white hair asked as Lambo pushed himself to his feet.

"No," Reborn says, and Lambo, in front of him can see the shifting in his jaw that mean he's gritting his teeth. "Obviously, that didn't work."

"You shot him?" the teen with black hair asks. "I see! Good practice for when Hibari arms the Discipline Committee with guns!"

"Hello," Sawada Tsunayoshi calls as he enters the clearing, his eyes set on Lambo in a clear effort to ignore the squabbling going on around him.

"Bovino, are you ready?" Reborn demands before Lambo can do much more than blink.

Lambo rattles his pills obligingly, watching for the signal that he's to take one. He pops a pill as soon as he get the go ahead, and lets himself fall into the reassuring blankness where he doesn't have to feel, just has to think about his next move.

Reborn had talked with him last night over a meal the hitman had made in his own kitchen. After the disaster of what happened last time, and especially after double checking the records, it had been decided that at least for a little while, there would be no more shooting the suicidal civilian. Reborn had muttered something about getting Lal to beat up her deadbeat boss because this was the second damn thing about his family, etc, etc., before telling Lambo to focus on how Tsuna reacted to being attacked/

Lambo doesn't watch Leon as the chameleon is raised to the sky in gun form, and neither does Sawada Tsunayoshi. They both watch each other, and for an eternal moment, Lambo forgets where they are. He forgets everything but brown eyes and the way Massimo laughed the last night Lambo saw him.

Then the gun goes off.